The Day Romance Died
by Scarlet Secret
Summary: The year is 1926 and the explorers have got hold of something that will show them a side of Marguerite they never imagined!


Disclaimer: - I own nothing. There'd have been considerably more Tribune if I did. You may have to suspend disbelief a little for this fic.

1926.

Sometimes, Marguerite mused, she really did believe that their little treehouse was cursed.

After a period of very little happening upon the plateau, save the daily drudgery of chores, another mysterious visitor had appeared on one quiet day. Trusting fools that the men-folk of the treehouse were they had accepted the really quite plausible story of an expedition losing its way and getting stranded. Had they not been spun this yarn so many times the women might have believed the story too, but instead they had doubted from the beginning that the weak and weedy looking man could possibly be the only survivor.

Needless to say they had eventually been proven correct in their doubting of the man and it had come down to them having another stack of luggage that was not their own to peruse.

They had done this a number of times with many of their alleged saviour's packs. The men had claimed several of the shirts to add to their own collections; any useful weapons were given to the most appropriate user and any scientific equipment was assessed as to whether it would be of any use to the Professor. Over the half a dozen years they had been here many things had naturally changed in the outside world, which was why the explorers always got excited when, ever so often, they would find a newspaper.

In their time here they had read four. One in 1920, that had never come to pass, detailing the miraculous way in which Marguerite had discovered a tunnel out of the world. One in 1922, shown to Marguerite by the trickster god in an attempt to lure here away. One in 1923, which told Challenger that an old friend of his had won a Nobel Prize. Nothing in '24. And a final one in 1925 that (by some luck) was from New York, and told Malone that Gladys had got married.

But it was the discovery of this latest paper that was to shake a member of the treehouse significantly.

Professor Challenger and Lord Roxton both perused the paper but found nothing of particular interest, Malone read it more thoroughly but still seemed interested in little else but the fact that his inherited stock was worth slightly more than it had been before he left. Veronica admired several of the photographs, and then denied utterly that she would ever wish to wear a dress like that, or to visit the cities. Finn only read the comics at the back, with some assistance from the reporter. As a result, by the time the paper got to Marguerite it was thoroughly ragged around the edges from excessive thumbing. Normally she would not have bothered reading it but by some strange fate she was up the following morning before the others, bored, and not feeling brave enough to attempt to cook her own breakfast. So she picked up the paper.

_American, _she thought with some trace of snobbery despite her close relationship with three people born in the country.

Marguerite had only glanced at the front page and the headline when Challenger entered the main room, to be met with an uncharacteristically distraught heiress.

"Marguerite, are you…?"

Before he could finish his sentence the woman in question had thrown the paper across the room and heaved a great sob followed by a pronounced sigh. By this time Roxton and Veronica had emerged from their room and the wise Professor deemed them two people far more qualified t deal with Marguerite and made a hasty retreat downstairs. He would eat in his lab later when Finn brought food down, as she always did. With a small sigh he considered whether it was especially cowardly to leave the two of them to deal with the erratic heiress but, he reconsidered, her input might well make it worse. Convinced her was doing the right thing Challenger ignored the noises now coming from above.

"Marguerite, calm down, what on earth has upset you?"

There was a small mumble from Marguerite who had let her head fall against her arms on the table.

"I didn't quite catch that my dear, but tell me and I'll make it better. I promise."

"How can you?! You can't bring him back!"

For a few minutes Roxton wondered seriously whether he had over-looked some major competition he may have for the woman's affection but he realised that he, like Veronica it seemed, had absolutely no idea who Marguerite meant.

"Is it Ned?!" Veronica suddenly suggested, panic filling her voice. "Is her hurt? I haven't seen him this morning!"

On cue Malone ambled in from his room.

"Did somebody say my name? What's for breakfast?" Noticing Marguerite's near hysterics by now he faltered in his cheer. "What's wrong?"

"We don't know yet!" Roxton snapped. In a softer voice he turned to his lover of the past three years. "Please Marguerite, let me make it better."

The only muffled response was "Paper".

At the mention of the document Veronica scooped it off the floor where it lay, eyeing it strangely she handed it to Malone who was looking at Marguerite as though she were volatile. Which, he supposed, she had been known to be.

"Marguerite," Veronica began, "We've all read the newspaper and there's nothing in there that should be upsetting."

She said this in her gentlest tone, the kind one might employ to deal with skittish horses. She didn't mention that Roxton had pointedly read the paper with Marguerite in mind, to make sure there was nothing that may upset her before the heiress came to it. He had found nothing. But Marguerite sobbed on. Roxton attempted to hold her in his arms, which usually comforted her, but she only accepted their strength for a moment before leaping to her feet and running to her room, muttering "How can he be dead?" through sobs.

Stunned the others stood rooted to the spot, unable to think what had caused the distress. They were only broken from their reverie when Finn bounced into the room, but when she saw them she too froze.

"What's up?"

Malone, wordlessly, passed her the paper before slumping into a seat.

"That woman will be the death of us."

"What I do?!"

"Not you, Marguerite."

"Well…that's more likely I guess. What she do?"

Veronica explained the older woman's strange behaviour to Finn while Roxton stared towards her room and Malone drank very strong coffee.

"…And she kept saying somebody was dead. But we all have no idea who she meant."

"Could have been an old friend I guess," Malone interjected, "She probably knows some shady people and we didn't really read the obituaries."

On Veronica's nod at his suggestion the reporter reached for the paper in Finn's hand but she pulled away. She was staring at the Headline with great concentration and soon seemed pleased with herself.

"You guys are all blind I swear! There's a dead guy right here."

Veronica looked over the younger woman's shoulder but she was still baffled.

"But how would Marguerite know this man? And why would she cry so much?"

Malone took the paper and it took him a few moments to comprehend what he was reading. Ignoring the eager looking Roxton completely he looked after Marguerite before bursting out with laughter. Completely confused again Roxton snatched the paper from the still laughing journalist and read.

In a split second his expression changed from concern to amusement and he too began to laugh. Veronica took it again, certain she must have missed something, but sure enough the same story was there. A man was dead, Marguerite was inconsolable and the men found it amusing.

"Who is he?"

The name was strange but she sounded it out.

"Rudolph Valentino. Who is he?"

The men laughed harder. Finn shrugged her shoulders and Veronica continued to be confused.

The End.

A/N: - Rudolph Valentino, for those who don't know, was the most desired actor during the early 20s, up to his untimely death in 1926. The timeline with the explorers might not fit properly, I don't think he was a massive star until after 1919, but he was still known.

Valentino was meant to be adored by every woman who saw him and this story was inspired by the line "She slashed her wrists when Valentino died" from _Some Like it Hot_.


End file.
